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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399092">Don't Try Suicide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queeniac/pseuds/Queeniac'>Queeniac</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Try Suicide [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, BAMF John Deacon, Depressed Brian May, Eventual Happy Ending maybe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Someone Help Roger, Suicidal Brian May, Suicide Attempt, gay pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queeniac/pseuds/Queeniac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is pretty dark. Brian is very depressed. This is the story of Brian's suicide attempt, Roger's pining, and the whole band trying to help Brian recover.<br/>TRIGGER WARNING<br/>Suicidal Character, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt do NOT READ if this stuff triggers you!<br/>National Suicide Hotline:<br/>1-800-273-8255 (Google got really worried when I looked up the Suicide Hotline)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Try Suicide [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nobody's Worth It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hope ya like it, even though it is Sad™. A lot of this comes from personal experience (with depression and stuff). It's gonna be less sad, but you'll have to wait a few chapters. I'm really excited for this fic (even though it is literal shit like everything I write lmao), so stay tuned!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How could he continue? Why must he continue? There was no reason. People may have cared, but he had disappointed them all, at one point or another. They would be okay. If he stayed, he would only hurt them more.</p><p>He remembered the pain in Roger's eyes when he first found Brian with a knife, cuts on his arms. He remembered the look on Freddie's face when he told the singer he was considering ending it all. He even remembered Deaky's expression when Brian wrote songs exposing his feelings.</p><p>His best friends, his bandmates, they were the only reason he had persevered this long. If Brian killed himself, they would hurt. They would all hurt, but they would be okay, someday. He hoped they wouldn't blame themselves when he was gone.</p><p>Brian had been in a spiral for the past two weeks. Two weeks was an eternity when every breath was painful. He knew the boys knew, or at least had some idea. Roger knew. Roger always knew. The drummer had tried to corner him a few times, but Brian brushed him off, saying he was fine, everything was okay. He didn't want to hurt Roger by telling him what he was going through.</p><p>Standing in the bathroom, hands gripping the sink for support, Brian looked in the mirror. The stubble on his cheeks had turned into a small beard, and his hair was greasy and unwashed. There were dark bags under his eyes. <em>I’m disgusting</em>, he thought, but couldn't bring himself to do anything about his appearance.</p><p>He didn't know how he was supposed to do things. Was he meant to leave a note? A letter? He just wanted it all to be over with. But he couldn't just leave Roger, Deaky, and Freddie with nothing. Brian decided he would write them a letter. <em>Just this, and all of it will be over.</em></p><p>When Brian finished with the letter, he put it in an envelope and taped it to the door of his flat, labelled with his bandmates' names. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had begun the note, maybe a couple hours, but he didn't much care either. He walked out of his flat, not bothering to lock the door.</p><p>He knew how he was going to do it. He just hoped they would all forgive him eventually.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sheer Heart Attack Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Roger shows up to Brian's flat and finds the note. He then goes and finds Brian. Kinda less dark? but not really.<br/>TRIGGER WARNING<br/>Attempted Suicide, Pill overdose<br/>National Suicide Hotline:<br/>1-800-273-8255<br/>Roger is kind of a wreck and is freaking out during this chapter (hence the title "Sheer Heart Attack"). Hope you guys enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The time period for this fic is a bit interesting, so let me explain. It's set in 1977 (News Of The World era) Queen- and music industry-wise, but tech-wise it's set in the modern age (2020-ish). Right now it's March for the characters. Hopefully that isn't too confusing. Enjoy!</p><p>Also obviously these characters are fictional, no disrespect is meant to the actual people, I own nothing. Also I don't really know much about how emergency numbers work in the UK so please forgive my mistakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roger had almost convinced himself this was a terrible idea. He knew Brian wouldn't be happy that he was checking in on him, but the younger man was worried. </p><p>When the drummer arrived at Brian's flat, he noticed an envelope taped to the door. Once he leaned in, Roger could see it was addressed to Freddie, John, and himself. He opened it. </p><p>
  <em> Hey mates. </em>
</p><p><em> I'd like to say I'm sorry. </em> <strike><em> I know this might seem </em></strike> <em> This is probably going to hurt you at first, but I promise you're better off without me.  </em></p><p>Roger's stomach dropped as he read the last line. He didn't bother to read the rest of the note, he just stuffed it in his trouser pocket as he ran back to his car. </p><p>He had to think. Where would Brian go to kill himself? How the hell was Roger even supposed to answer that question? <em> Well, </em> he reasoned, <em> he’s obviously not in his flat. </em> <em> That </em> <em> sure narrows things down. </em> He was beginning to panic. The blonde was sitting in his car, keys in the ignition, with no idea of where to go. <em> Who knows how long ago he left that note. Oh God, what if I’m too late? </em> No. <em> No, I can’t be. I fucking can’t be.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Then it hit him. He and Brian had had a park they went to, whenever something was wrong or if they just wanted to talk and hang out, back when they were in Smile. They hardly used it anymore, but Roger was certain that’s where Brian would be. </p><p> </p><p>The park was a five minute drive from Brian’s flat. Roger started the car, and squealed off. He was speeding, but if he didn’t give two shits about the rules of the road normally, he wasn’t about to start now. </p><p> </p><p>Roger wasn’t a religious person, but he was willing to try praying in case there was a God out there who might help Brian. <em> God, if you do exist, let Brian be okay. He </em> <em> needs </em> <em> to be okay. </em> Roger pulled up to the park, slammed the car door, and sprinted to the bench he and Brian usually met at. </p><p> </p><p>When Roger saw Brian, he stopped breathing momentarily. The curly-haired brunette sat sprawled on the bench, an array of pill bottles in varied stages of emptiness next to him, unconscious. It was unclear whether he was breathing or not. <em> Fuckfuckfucknonono he has to be okay he has to be. </em>Roger was at Brian’s side in an instant, taking his pulse. </p><p> </p><p>Brian’s heart was beating, albeit very slowly. He was breathing, but barely. “C’mon Bri, wake up, please, you have to wake up,” Roger sobbed, shaking his shoulder. He fumbled for his phone and dialed 999, tears blurring his vision. <em> Answer the goddamn phone! </em></p><p> </p><p>“999, what’s your emergency?”</p><p> </p><p>“My friend - my friend is fucking dying!”</p><p> </p><p>“All right sir, I’m going to need you to calm down and tell me what exactly the situation is. What happened to your friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“He - he overdosed on some medication. Please, you’ve got to send someone to help him!”</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe, sir. Is his heart beating?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes, but it’s slow.”</p><p> </p><p>“And is he breathing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but barely, he needs help goddammit!” </p><p> </p><p>“What is your location, sir?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re at 203 W 4th Street, please fucking hurry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Help is on the way, sir. I need you to remain calm and-” Roger hung up. He was desperately clutching Brian’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Bri, please wake up, please, I need you,” he pleaded. The brunette was still out cold. Roger had begun to hyperventilate as he called John. The phone rang for what seemed an eternity before the bassist picked up. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello Rog-”</p><p> </p><p>“Deaky Brian tried to kill himself you need to come here!” Roger said, all in one breath. </p><p> </p><p>John was instantly all business. “Have you called 999?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah but-”</p><p> </p><p>“Give me the address.”</p><p> </p><p>“203 W 4th Street, do you know that park?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes I do. I’ll be there in ten.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait! Call Freddie and-”</p><p> </p><p>“Freddie’s here. He was eating dinner with Ronnie and I. We’ll be there, Rog.” Deaky hung up. </p><p> </p><p>Roger was left alone to worry at Brian’s side. The guitarist’s breathing was growing slower by the minute. <em> What if the ambulance is too late? What if he stops breathing before it gets here?! I don’t even know CPR! </em></p><p><br/><em> He can’t die. I can’t fucking live without him. </em>“Bri, you have to stay with me,” Roger said out loud. Then, he heard the ambulance siren. The blonde jumped up and waved frantically at it, tears still streaming down his face. The ambulance pulled up to the curb, siren wailing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you guys liked the chapter! It was originally going to be much longer, but I wouldn't have been able to upload today that way, so I split it in two. You guys get to see part of Brian's note, but I actually wrote out the whole thing, so if anyone is interested in seeing it, let me know and I can upload it for y'all as a second part of this. Please comment and let me know what you thought, or just talk to me :) Tune in to Chapter 3 to find out what happens to the boys, and thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sheer Heart Attack Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brian gets taken to the hospital, Roger, Deaky, and Freddie are going through it. Bless John Richard Deacon's sensible head, Roger and Freddie would be lost without him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I meant to upload this chapter yesterday, but instead chose to work on a big essay for school (that's due today, actually). In 1977, Roger bought a Ferrari, but since I'm not sure when, I'm just sticking with the Alfa Romeo for now. I plan to update roughly once every 5 days from here on out, but since I was late today, I hope to upload Chapter 4 Monday. Also, I have no experience with ambulances/paramedics and the like, so please be gentle with me. Enjoy the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three paramedics, all men, got out of the ambulance with a stretcher and rushed to Brian's side. One hoisted the brunette, head lolling, onto the stretcher the other two were bearing. Roger stood to the side, badly wanting to help but not knowing how. They loaded Brian into the back of the ambulance. Roger knew this was the EMT's job, but everything felt nervous and rushed to him. </p><p>"Wait!" Roger cried. "I want- can't I ride with him?"</p><p>"Are you related to this man, sir?" one of the paramedics queried. </p><p>"No, but-"</p><p>"Only family allowed," another said hurriedly. </p><p>"But I-"</p><p>"We need to get him to the hospital," the third said firmly. Possibly taking note of the distress on Roger's face, he added, not unkindly, "Time is of the essence, sir. You can see him in the hospital." Defeated, Roger nodded. Sobs wracked him as he watched the paramedics get in and the ambulance drive away, lights flashing and siren wailing. </p><p>Less than a minute later, Deaky's car pulled up to the curb and parked just behind Roger's. Freddie and John tumbled out of the car. Freddie looked distraught, but John looked remarkably calm, considering the circumstances. </p><p>Roger exclaimed "We need to go to the hospital!" at the same time as Freddie all but shrieked, "What the hell happened?!"</p><p>"Calm down!" Deaky interjected. Incredulous, Freddie tried to interrupt, but the bassist went on. "We <em>will</em> go to the hospital, but first Freddie and I need an explanation of what's happening." As an afterthought, he said, "Rog, sit down, you look like you're going to have a heart attack, mate." </p><p>Pale and shaky, Roger did what he was told and sat down on the bench. </p><p>"All right, dear, kindly explain what the fuck is going on," Freddie said, trying to regain some of his composure (and failing, he looked as though he were about to collapse). </p><p>Roger gave a brief account of the last hour's events. At the end of his retelling, Freddie looked like he wanted to pass out or throw up, and John was noticeably shaken, although he was trying to hide it for Roger and Freddie's sake. </p><p>"Now can we please go to the hospital!" Roger snapped, and then immediately regretted it. Brian was their mate too, <em>but not in the same way,</em> his treacherous brain added. However, Freddie and John didn't seem to care much. The trio piled into Deaky's car, leaving Roger's Alfa Romeo at the park. John was at the wheel -as Roger was in no shape emotionally to drive- and Freddie was in the passenger seat, leaving Roger to panic in the back by himself.</p><p>"Brian'll be alright," John said. It wasn't clear if he was trying to reassure himself or the other two. Regardless, it wasn't working. </p><p>"Oh God, but what if he's not?" Freddie asked tearfully. </p><p>"It'll be my fault," Roger said hopelessly. "I knew something was wrong. I <em>knew</em>. I should have done something more-"</p><p>"No," said John firmly. "You <em>did</em> do something. If you hadn't gone to check on him, nobody would have known until it was too late. Thanks to you, Brian still has a chance." There was a moment's silence. Roger thought he saw the glimmer of tears in John's eyes, but he couldn't be sure, as his own vision was obstructed with crying.</p><p>Softly, Freddie said, "John's right, darling."</p><p>Then, "I grabbed a few of the- the pill bottles, in case it will help the doctors with him." <em>Smart of Fred to do that,</em> Roger thought, and said as much. "Thank you, dear," Freddie replied, still in tears.</p><p>The nervous tension in the car was palpable. None of them knew what to say, and they were all scared out of their minds for Brian, Roger most of all. Finally, they arrived at the hospital.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I hope everyone is coping okay with Corona. Please comment and let me know what you thought, comments are my fuel. If you have any suggestions to improve my writing, please share. To everyone that celebrates Easter, happy (early) Easter, and to those of you who don't, happy quarantine!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. An Adventure Through the Emotional Landscape of Roger Taylor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The boys get to the hospital. Much drama ensues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am finally back, bitches! It's taken a while, but I hope you find this chapter enjoyable. I'm still not sure how often I'm going to update, but I won't leave you hanging like that again. I really like this chapter, and I hope you do too, although it is heavy on the angst as always. Additionally, thank God for Deaky, he's worried too but he's the only one who remotely has himself together.<br/>One more thing! I used more analogies here, I like (most of) them, but please let me know what you think about that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Roger scrambled out of the car as soon as Deaky parked. He ran through the parking lot up to the hospital entrance, heart pounding and mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He burst through the hospital doors, Freddie and John right behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tired receptionist looked up. “Yes? What do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Roger couldn’t speak. Thankfully John had no such problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve come to see our friend. His name is Brian May; he’s about six feet tall, and he has hair like a poodle. He came in just a bit ago by ambulance, I think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know who you mean. I’m afraid you can’t see him at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger found his voice. “Why? Why can’t we see him?” he asked, a note of desperation in his question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t see him </span>
  <em>
    <span>at the moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sir,” she said pointedly, then continued more gently, “but if you’ll direct yourselves to the waiting room when the doctors okay it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” John said to the receptionist, then gently herded his two friends to the foyer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reached the waiting room, the depth of the situation seemed to hit Deaky in its entirety, and his facade of serenity cracked as he fell into a chair like a sack of bricks. Freddie, pale-faced, sank into another chair. Roger remained standing. He was shaking like the last wind-blown leaf on an autumn tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed like that for a few minutes. Finally Deaky, with his head in his hands, said “Roger, sit down. We’ll be here for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Numbly, Roger complied. Freddie spoke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be alright, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger looked at him, face etched with despondence, and replied, “Really, Fred. And how exactly do you know that? Have you got some sixth sense that we don’t know about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie was silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed. “Sorry, I’m being a right prick. I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all right, darling. We’re all worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind you,” John cut in, “that’s not a free pass to be an arsehole.” Roger managed a half-assed smile at that, then they lapsed into silence once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger’s nerves were eating him alive. Without the conversation to distract him, his train of thought quickly spiralled into a whirlpool of anxiety. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll never forgive myself if he dies. Oh Jesus, what if he does die? Shit. I didn’t get a good look at what he’d taken or how much. What if the reason they won’t let us see him is because he’s dying? Oh God. They have to let us see him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roger tried to calm down, forcing himself to breathe deep and slow. Freddie and John both appeared to be lost inside their own heads; John’s eyes were closed, his head in his hands, and Freddie was staring intently into nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A horrible thought struck Roger like a crowbar to the side of the head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking hell, what if he’s fucking brain damaged? What if he loses his memory and doesn’t remember me?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knew it was incredibly selfish, but he thought that was almost worse than if Brian were to… were to die. The blond needed a distraction. He was itching for a smoke, but he knew he couldn’t do that in a hospital, and besides, he didn’t have any cigarettes on him. Roger pulled out his phone and checked the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deaky looked over at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve already been here for two hours.” Roger hadn’t noticed the passage of time. Nobody else was in the waiting room with them. As John was about to respond, a doctor entered the room. The three men all but leaped from their chairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow. “Are you here for Brian May?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie answered her. “Yes, can we see him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger lunged for the door. “Let’s go then!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger halted and turned to face the doctor again. Impatiently, he asked, “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had to restart his heart. We’ve been monitoring him, but you can see him now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger was shifting from foot to foot. “All right, where is he then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor led them down a couple of hallways before stopping at a door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can go in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger was the first through the door. His breath stopped short in his chest as he saw Brain lying in the hospital bed. The brunet looked inches from death’s door, head lolling limply against the pillow and face waxen. Roger heard the other two enter the room behind him and turned to face them. John was determinedly keeping a neutral expression, while Freddie looked stricken. The doctor was the last to come in, shutting the door behind her. Roger was sure she had said her name, but he couldn’t remember it for the life of him, and he had more important things to worry about. His hands shook violently as he caught sight of Brian once more, somehow looking lost and alone in the hospital bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor cleared her throat. “So,” she began gently. “There are some things you should probably know. Firstly, the patient is in a coma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger looked at her, terror in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused, seemingly discomfited at seeing the sheer emotion painted all over his and his bandmates’ faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else, Doctor Wilder?” John asked hopelessly. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was her name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, of course. If your friend wakes up within the next 48 hours, he will probably have limited long-term effects. However, there is a possibility he won’t wake up within that period of time. If he doesn’t, he may remain in the coma indefinitely, and the likelihood of permanent brain damage increases. Regardless, we won’t know the extent of his injuries until he regains consciousness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking in the three friends’ expressions, she gave them a half-smile that looked more like a sympathetic wince. “I’ll leave you alone for a while, yeah?” She ducked out of the room without waiting for a response. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyone else really wanna give Roger a hug? I know I do. Please comment any thoughts or criticisms you have! The doctor's full name is actually Robyn Wilder. Why is that, you ask? Well, it's a combination of two of my favorite actors, Robin Williams and Gene Wilder. Pretty stupid, but fuck it. I hope you liked the chapter, and thanks for reading. Also, if you don't have anything to say about the chapter and just wanna pop in and say hi that's fine with me too! Have a great day loves.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In Which There Is Angst</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one's from Brian's point of view. Angsty? I guess? This whole fic is full of angst y'all should know that by now. <br/>Also, Brian's stream of consciousness basically *is* my brain at all times.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have returned once more. Hope you guys enjoy this! Also, I just realized I had Roger in the second chapter say that he doesn’t know CPR. Roger was a medical student. I am such a dumbass. I apologize for that sincerely, guys, it was very dumb of me. If any of you knows anything about hospitals, please tell me, cuz I have no idea what I'm doing. Additionally, there's a lot more dark humor in this chapter, so let me know what you think of that. <br/>Also, does anyone else ever have an overwhelming need to hug their characters? I do.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was dark. Quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peaceful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, Brian didn’t remember the last time he had felt so calm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, in an instant, Brian’s inner peace was no more. It was still dark, but no longer quiet. He could hear someone sobbing, as if from far away. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to it. Thinking was like wading through quicksand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His feeling of peace and serenity was already as a distant memory. Though Brian couldn’t remember who was behind the crying voice, he felt that it was someone he needed to protect, someone he cared about. Someone he loved in more ways than one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The darkness didn’t feel safe and comforting anymore. It was suffocating. He realized his eyes were closed, but his attempts to open them were futile. Brian was drowning, he couldn’t breathe. He suddenly became aware of his body. Somebody was gripping his hand tightly. He tried to move, but found he couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian struggled to make sense of the situation. The last thing he remembered was sitting down on his and Roger’s old park bench with a bunch of medication bottles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t think he was dead. He had been under the impression death did not involve pain and someone you knew and loved sobbing. And if Brian was dead, who the fuck was holding his hand?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian’s hearing was much clearer now. He could make out two, three? distinct voices. The one that had been sobbing had momentarily subsided to quiet crying. The other two seemed to be trying to soothe the crier and each other in turns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It came to him in a flash of intuition. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roger.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roger was crying. Brian had a sudden need to make him feel better. But why was he crying?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he crying because of me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian struggled, trying to open his eyes or squeeze Roger’s hand or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but his attempts were in vain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roger’s heartbroken cries were like daggers calculated to stab directly where it hurt the most. He could make out words now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between Roger’s  sobs, he heard, “Brian… please… don’t leave me,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t leave </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” a quiet voice added. “C’mon mate.” John? He sounded relatively calm, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was, the bassist was rather skilled in hiding his feelings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other hand, Brian had never dreamed Roger could sound this distraught. Roger was usually happy and ready for a good time, though his quick temper could cause angry outbursts at times. Of course, he was still human, and Brian had seen him sad before, but this was different. The drummer sounded despairing and heartbroken. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian couldn’t think. All of his emotions were flying at him so fast, and the pain in his head didn’t make anything easier. He wanted to comfort his friends, but truthfully, the guitarist was somewhat angry. Brian had set out to end his life, and instead it seemed he had dived face-first into a pile of shit and new problems. </span>
  <em>
    <span>To be fair,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought wryly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s not that surprising I failed. I’m a failure at everything, including death, apparently. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian was snapped back to reality by a flare of pain in his chest. His scream of anguish was trapped in his throat. He strained to open his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinding light.</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>An ear-piercing scream from Freddie.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Brian couldn’t see. There was only light, and the light burned his eyes. Around him, he heard chaos. He still couldn’t move, but he felt Roger continuing to cling to his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gradually, Brian’s vision improved, but he was unable to focus his eyes or see clearly at all. However, ihis sight was no longer just blazing white light. There were several blurry figures standing over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon Bri, stay awake, you can do it.” There was hope in Roger’s voice for the first time since Brian had awakened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian wanted to return to the dark. Really, he wanted to be dead, but the darkness was the closest he could get at the moment. But for Roger, he would try. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just Roger?</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brain inquired. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What about your other two mates? What about Freddie and John?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, them too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t have time for this shit. Of course he loved all his friends equally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was someone else in the room now. Where the hell was he, anyway? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, where do people go when they try to commit suicide, idiot? That’s right, the hospital. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian’s brain was a fucking asshole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to focus on the new person’s face, but his efforts were in vain. The mysterious newcomer spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. May, please don’t panic. You’re in the hospital, and…” she continued to speak, but Brian tuned her out. He was so tired. He couldn’t think anymore, and he slipped back into the peaceful, quiet darkness. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know some Archive emails are down for a little bit, so if any of you didn’t get a notification for this chapter, or if I don’t respond to your comment right away, that’s why. Please comment any thoughts and criticisms, seriously, help me improve my writing. Always feel free to point out any mistakes or other things you think I could fix or do better. Also, author recommendation: Go check out Opening_A_Clog_Factory, they're amazing. Thank you all so much for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. lol guess who's a shit writer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I am so sorry you guys have to deal with *gestures at self* this</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Y'all, I am apparently no longer able to write. I have like 2 paragraphs of the next chapter, and for some reason, I just can't. I am so, so sorry. This may have something to do with being trapped in the house in quarantine for several months with my emotionally abusive, homophobic, over-controlling father, (also maybe the crippling depression &amp; anxiety hahaha someone help me), but regardless, I am very sorry. I'm hoping I'll be able to write again soon, but I'm not sure at this point. I'm also about to go to my home state and see family for a couple weeks (one week in which my father will not be present :D), so that might alleviate some of the terrible-ness and allow me to write. Once again, I feel super bad about all of this, my sincerest apologies for making you guys put up with my bullshit.<br/>
I'm also starting high school very soon (in the fall, I just turned 14), so that's cool I guess, but I have a fuck-ton of schoolwork before I graduate so yeah. If anyone wants to talk to me in the comments, please do, I wanna talk to some people, and I know life is pretty stressful at the moment.<br/>
Sorry I'm such a failure lovely people.<br/>
-Robin</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Nothing Else Matters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There is only Brian, and nothing else matters. (Roger's POV, title taken from the Metallica song, naturally.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello beautiful readers,<br/>It has been a long-ass time, but here I am! I am so sorry for the wait, but I think I'll be able to update more often now. i've got this chapter, and another one coming soon.<br/>Please let me know if you think this is way too angsty, I've been wondering if I should maybe inject some more levity. I appreciate you all so much, thank you for reading and sticking with this even though my updates are far from consistent and I am not the most talented of authors.<br/>Enjoy the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roger couldn’t think straight. Everything came to him as if from a great distance. All he could see was Brian, and his heart thundered in his eardrums. </p><p>He was in a chair next to Brian’s bed, holding the brunet’s hand, but he didn’t remember getting there. Roger was so sad and scared it physically hurt, but he knew his pain was nothing to what Brian would feel when he woke up -<em> if he woke up </em>- no. He would wake up. </p><p>Roger could feel his mind venturing down the dark path it had already traversed many times that day. He was pretty sure the only reason he could still think rationally was the fact that his brain had already gone through hysterics and was near shutdown. <em> What if Bri doesn’t wake up? What-what will I even do without him? Hell, what will the band do? Queen is family, we can’t survive without Brian, aside from the fact we can’t do shit without a guitarist.  </em></p><p>In an instant, it was as though all the panic that had been strangely absent descended on Roger in an incomprehensible cloud of fear and sorrow. He tried and failed to muffle the sobs starting to escape from deep inside of him. </p><p>John looked at him with considerable alarm at the advent of such cries from the usually cheerful and devil-may-care drummer. Freddie looked like he wanted to join in. For a moment, Roger could’ve sworn he had seen Brian’s eyelids flicker, but he quickly beat the thought down as false hope. </p><p>It looked as though John wanted to comfort Roger, but was unsure what to say. The usually quiet bassist had had to handle a lot that day, and though he was oddly suited to taking charge, the challenges of the day had taken their toll on him just as much as the others. Somewhat surprisingly, Freddie took control of the situation. He crossed quickly over to Roger and began murmuring comforting nonsense to him.</p><p>Gradually, Roger’s tears became more slow and quiet, though no less full of grief. Freddie had succeeded in holding back tears, but not by much, his lower lip quivered and his eyes shone as he stroked Roger’s arm. John still sat silent in his chair, but even through his tears Roger could see the sorrow and fear on the younger man’s face. </p><p>Roger was seized by a desire to do something. <em> Like what? </em> his brain jeered. <em> You’re fucking helpless. You can’t do shit. You couldn’t save him and now you have to sit here and watch him suffer. You’re fucking worse than useless to him.  </em></p><p>The only feasible action left to Roger was simply talking to Brian. So talk he did, despite the fact he had no idea whether Brian hearing him was even within the realm of possibility. </p><p>Roger’s voice was hoarse from crying and disuse, but he managed speech -albeit speech peppered with hiccups and <em> even more fucking crying </em>, his brain added helpfully- regardless.</p><p>“Brian… please… don’t leave me.”</p><p>“Don’t leave <em> us </em>. C’mon mate,” said John, surprising both Roger and Freddie with his addition to Roger’s plea. </p><p>Roger searched for more words, but couldn’t find any. He settled for gripping Brian’s hand tighter (a remarkable feat, considering the fact he had already all but stopped circulation in the brunet’s hand) and studying his face for any signs of regained consciousness. </p><p>After what seemed eternities, when Roger and his two other bandmates were ready to give up hope there would be any change in Brian’s situation, the heart monitor sped up. </p><p>And Brian opened his eyes. </p><p>From then on, everything was a blur for Roger. In the background, he registered the sound of Freddie screaming. All he saw was Brian. </p><p>Then the doctor -a voice in his head piped in with the name <em> Doctor Wilder </em>- was back in the room, along with a nurse. The nurse was trying to separate him from Brian. </p><p>Roger couldn’t breathe, and he was shaking and pale, and above all, he <em> would </em> <em> not </em> <em> let go of Brian. </em></p><p>Eventually, Freddie whispered to him that if he didn’t let go, they wouldn’t let him see Brian ever again. So Roger let John and Freddie escort him from the room, crying like a wounded animal all the way. </p><p>Before he left the room, Roger saw that Brian’s eyes were closed once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'd just like to say that when Freddie tells Roger he can't ever see Brian again, he isn't exactly telling the truth, but Roger is in no state to recognize that.<br/>I'm not super happy with this chapter, but I figured I may as well post it so you guys have something. If you have any writing advice or criticisms, please do not hesitate to share! I need all that I can get. Comment and let me know your thoughts, or just how life's going. How's quarantine going for y'all?<br/>Thanks for reading! &lt;3 (oh and sorry for the wait again)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hey</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hi guys.<br/>
I doubt anyone still reads this, but just in case, I feel it's my duty to let y'all know what's going on.<br/>
So, I probably won't be continuing this fic. I would love to, but I'm rather busy with school, family, etc., and quite frankly, I cannot seem to find any inspiration for this. I'm very sorry if this disappoints any of you, and I wish I could find a way to continue this. Theoretically; I could post more chapters, but I think it's unfair to you to post once every three months or whatever. I'm not leaving Archive, I'll still post other works (although probably no proper fics, as we've seen how that goes), but this fic is now officially discontinued. Again, if anyone reads this, I'm very sorry! Thank you so much for being lovely readers, seeing y'all's comments was always the highlight of my day. </p><p>-Robin</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I sound kinda depressed in this lmao<br/>I'm doing alright actually, I just hate to disappoint any of you.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>COMMENT PLEASE. Criticism is welcome, but please don't be an asshole about it. Please tell me your thoughts. Comments are my lifeblood. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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